VOS
by teen freak
Summary: Love is indefinite. It can be the thing that saves you from misery, or the very thing that causes it. And what exactly is it for you? RedXStar Oneshot V.O.S. by la oreja de van gogh


**A/N: This is the first angst I've written in a long time, let alone published. Please let me have your opinion at the end of your reading, and enjoy! WARNING: there are some mature themes implied. Just skip if you need to. Nothing serious, just some minor implications.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

**TTTT**

**V.O.S.**

_Al igual quen un gas invade un laberinto_

_La nostalgia se hizó con mi corazón_

She missed him. The realization came to her while hot water beat against her back, gently helping the soap along her body. The steam rising from the tile floor provided a safe cover, like a comfortable blanket blurring every object in front of her and hiding _her _from their inanimate (and most likely inexistent) eyes. She poured shampoo onto her cupped palm, trying to ignore overwhelming memories and the only too fresh sensation of foreign hands scrubbing the gel-like solution on her damp hair. Without the extra help she'd always had, she was reduced to rubbing her skin with a bath sponge. She felt two (if not more) streams of water run easily down her cheeks and tightened her lips, determined to believe they were merely droplets led astray from the shower-head.

_Y aunque a pares tengo ojos tengo oidos_

_Sin ti pierden sentido, el sónido y el color_

More stray droplets ran down her already-wet face, fueling the dormant frustration that had surfaced only a while ago. The feeling ran from her head and spread throughout her shivering body. Closing her eyes she reached behind her and turned the hot water knob to shut off the shower. The steady stream of water falling on her faltered and died, pathetically shortened to a dripping, and annoying, trickle falling on the small puddle at her feet and lacking rhythm. She pressed her eyelids tighter together as her body resolved to remember a much larger, and warmer, body leaning against hers to cut the water. The shower curtain brushed against her chilled arm with a terrifying resemblance to a pair of fingertips, coaxing a small whimper from her throat. Tears (for they could be nothing else now that the shower was off) fell from her drying face and made a hollow splashing sound as they hit the mini-rivers of water traveling to the far end of the shower.

_No me quito el vicio de esperarte en casa_

_Apoyando mi cabeza en el cristal_

The mere fact that his remembrance bothered her enough to cry elicited from her a sound that was neither a growl nor a sob, but rather a bizarre fusion of both that startled her to no end. Shaking off all memories, she reached out and grabbed a soft towel she carefully wrapped around her wet body. She tucked a corner of the towel into the left side of her chest and wrung out her hair, bending backward slightly to make sure the extra water fell away from the dry towel. She stepped out of the shower precariously, using a foot and hand to steady herself before rapidly exiting the bathroom. A strange sensation met her in the bedroom, a bedroom that had once sheltered two. A feeling that eliminated privacy, or rather violated it, and invited hostility. Security and confidence dissipated from her conscience, grudgingly being replaced by fear and paranoia. What exactly triggered these feelings she couldn't say, but it wasn't what she would call a beckoning welcome.

_Y con el empaño de un suspiro en la ventana_

_Dibujo un tres en raya que vuelvo a empatar_

The wind outside howled and pound against the window incessantly and persistently, like an excluded person determined to have his say. The arched design had not been her creation, but another's. and she had agreed to the arch, plus shutters instead of curtains as long as she got her windowsill. She'd had a use for it back then. All she had wanted had been a sweet spot to cuddle in at dawn and dusk, a place where she could escape daily sores. Somewhere that held a warm light at night, somewhere she could hide when she was scared and no one was there to hold her; maybe even when there was. Her face hosted a bitter smile as she realized no one (especially not her) had sat on that windowsill, steaming the crystal up with their warm breath to draw loving messages she had never forgotten since he left. Forever.

_Si algún día nos cruzamos, no respondas ni hagas caso_

_A los subtítulos que bajo mi sonrisa sabes ver_

She had once used it almost twice a day and accompanied, being held by arms that were no more here than their owner was. Goosebumps shivered across her skin as the feel of those arms returned, now more vividly than ever, this time followed by a warm body pressed against hers. For a moment she gave credit to her memories and imagination, but the steady breaths blowing on her neck could not be generated by the mind. They could only be real. A gasp met a low chuckle as she fought herself free. There was not a doubt in her mind that the man behind her was the same one who had once vowed never to leave her side. One who had taken her low expectations and lifted them past the heavens above. One who had pledged his love and loyalty to her. And sealed it with a kiss.

_Yo te dire que voy tirando, negaré que estoy llorando_

_Y fingiré que el tiempo todo lo curó_

Her efforts at long last gave fruit, releasing her from the grip of a man who had taken her heart, her innocence, her love, and torn them to shreds. Her momentary surprise melted into a frightening brew of anger, confusion, fear, and heartbreak. She forced confusion deep inside her mind and let anger take its place, planting its roots within her pain. His eyes sparkled with arrogant amusement identical to that of long ago, the spark of entertainment she had seen by the windowsill when he held her; at the park while he took her hand and led her to their pond. He walked towards her slowly and deliberately, one hand in his jean pocket, the other reaching for her neck. His brilliant eyes took her in, ticking back and forth as they surveyed her damp hair, delicate collarbone, all the way down to her thigh, where the towel came up short.

_No consiguo hacer nada sin darme cuenta,_

_Es el precio de aprender a no llorar_

His advance unnerved her more than his presence did, the way his hand cupped her neck sent a wave of warmth coursing through her body. Almost subconsciously, her eyes fluttered closed as her mind gave in to his touch and her senses were catapulted into a vortex of emotions. She closed her eyes defiantly, too confused and hurt to take notice of all the memories now pushing and poking at her in the hopes of smashing whatever speck of dignity she had left. Oh, how she longed to give in, to let go and have him once again by her side, a presence never wavering existence. She longed to have someone to return to after a long day, someone to hold her and tell her everything would be okay, even when things couldn't be further from 'okay'. But wishes and dreams were a long way from promises, and even those could stray far from the truth. He had made it his personal job to show her that. His hands framed her face in such a painfully romantic way it threatened to summon tears from her eyes and she forced herself to look at him.

_Y es que aunque a veces nada indique que compensa,_

_Yo me niego a dar la vuelta y hacerme menor de edad_

The sight of him made her heart ache stubbornly, and his smile was potent enough to inspire her hand to rip his from her face. Soon enough, she found herself unable to forget the sensation of his skin on hers, his eyes never straying from her. The smile faded from his face quickly as she nervously made her way to her bedside table. And the phone. With shaking fingers she lifted the cordless device and flipped it, only taking time off to glance at him. And not so surprisingly, the last time she looked caused her to drop the phone. He was no longer ten feet from her but barely two, a distance that provided her with absolutely no comfort but, more importantly, nowhere to run. His eyes bore onto her, slowly burning her with the passion they had held years ago. A yearning only she could inspire, or so she had been told. She had been assured time and time again that only she occupied his mind, that he thought of no one besides her. Day in and day out she would go to work and return happy because she thought she already had that special someone who was going to stay with her for the rest of her life. With her own bed to her left and the nightstand to her right, he slowly forced her into the corner where the wood and blankets met.

_Si algún día nos cruzamos, no respondas ni hagas caso_

_A los subtítulos que bajo mi sonrisa sabes ver_

Her resolve was steadily weakening as he softly embraced her, a comforting hold that reminded her of the gentle tenderness he once showed her, and she almost expected him to kiss her as he would have back then, back when nothing was wrong and everything was the same. She could see herself distinctly waking up next to him again, with his strong arms wrapped around her body in a fiercely protective way that made room for primal security. Right now, nothing would have felt better than to have him tell her how much he loved her, no matter what a bunch of bullshit it was. She needed someone like him in her life. And somehow, despite the warm energy flowing from his body to hers, she pushed him away. Mostly in shock he stumbled backwards, his feet thumping on her carpet like they would when he wanted to sneak in after hours, when work held him back until past midnight. His clear ashen eyes lifted to hers in amusement, something that fully fueled her anger at him. It frustrated her how casual he looked, so completely careless about anything but himself in a manner that was all but arrogant, the look of a man who could have anything he wanted. She desperately wondered where and how this was going, what it was he expected or was willing to demand from her. What more could he possibly want?

_Yo te dire que voy tirando, negaré que estoy llorando,_

_Y fingiré que el tiempo todo lo curó..._

Anxiety built up inside her, mockingly gnawing at her uneasy soul. She knew exactly what he wanted; it was what he'd always wanted from her. The only thing he was willing to accept. He would most likely never want her love, though she'd always be more than ready to receive his, however faux it may be. It hurt her beyond comprehension how dependent she was of this ruthless man, how incredibly defenseless she was against his charms, or his wit. She'd fallen for the trap he set up for every girl or woman he met, and she still couldn't find it in herself to pull away. She needed what he wanted for trivial reasons to survive, or else she would find herself with more than one morning with the likes of this one. A heartbroken young woman crying herself to sleep and shedding tears in the shower, coming to the same realization every God-forsaken day of her life, always to find that the man who could take it all away, make everything better, was the man who had made her so miserable in the first place. And still she followed, she fell for the trap time and time again. Because she needed to believe he wanted her. She liked to fool herself into thinking he needed her as much as she needed him. But she knew it would end up the same way, and she would end up taking him back every fucking time.

_En realidad nunca te olvido, fuiste mi único camino,_

_Y tu sonrisa un buen motivo para ser alguien mejor..._

She felt utterly drugged as he approached her again, sealing his lips with hers in the blink of an eye. She surrendered to the bliss, allowed herself to picture him living with her forever, sharing more than just a bed. His kiss proved to her that he was addicting, it proved to her that she couldn't live without having him betray her in the worst way possible and still love him. His hands ran up and down her scantly covered body in joyful remembrance, reclaiming territory that had never ceased to be his. He'd left her for other women that much she knew, but it was almost shameful to think she'd never even thought about sleeping with other men unless he was the one taking her home. And just like that the defense it had taken her two years to build came crashing down upon her, her body united her mind's forbidden wishes into a sweet surrender and soon enough he was with her again, caressing her and whispering the things she had dreamed of having him tell her. She barely heard or felt the bed creak under their combined weight, felt him drag her down in more ways than one, and once again that stupid voice returned. She felt completely exposed as he removed her towel and ran his fingers through her wet hair. She allowed one last tear to slip past her lids unchecked…

_Y aunque te cuenten que me vieron de princesa en algún cuento_

_No hace falta que te diga que tan sólo cuentos son..._

The covers were warm against her bare skin, and the obvious presence of another body in the bed was only remotely comforting, the hands resting on her bare navel only slightly reassuring. Her eyes stung horribly, her throat ached as she choked back tears. A quiet sob escaped her as the tears escaped her freely, a terrible feeling consuming her little by little on the inside. Her body racked with not so quiet sobs this time, and the hand turned her over and its owner looked at her, took her in deeply. Grey eyes asked her the never-ending questions and her brain took _him_ in. And suddenly, her memoirs of happy mornings and even happier nights faded, the trust she thought he could help her regain never seemed farther away, his existence seemed so uncertain. He was just too volatile for her, too unpredictable. At first it had been the main reason they were together, she needed some kind of excitement in her life. Plain and boring Kori Anders had met strange and mysterious Xavier Redd. It was truly a match made in hell. His lip lowered on hers again in what he deemed to be a sweet kiss, but was instead only helping her sorrows along. She finally worked up her wits and spoke; just a faint murmured 'Why?'… His eyebrows knitted in confusion and he smiled softly. All of the angst and momentum had led up to this moment, that special time when she would find out exactly what he felt for her. The time that would make up for the years of mourning, of accepting chocolates and roses from close friends that could never replace the feeling he gave her whenever he was near her. She could finally banish those sad mornings, and hey, maybe even that windowsill would come back into use. The mere thought almost drove her to insanity, but she stuck to it. What was it that people said about life? A fairytale waiting to happen? She could believe it if she wanted to.  
"I love you," his husky voice reached her ears adoringly, a whisper that had once made her giggle and reward him with a kiss. Now it just made her shiver. The man that had protected her now made her feel less than safe. But she could pretend. Just like a small child, she could make believe.

And for now, all she needed was love, no matter how fake it was.  
Besides, it was nice to pretend.

**TTTT**

**Thank you, Thank you!!  
**

**This HAS to be the most depressing thing I've gotten in writing since 'Torn Rose'. I'd really appreciate a review!!!**

**TF **


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